“Yeah, she farted in front of me last week, so I guess you could say things are getting pretty serious.”

It is a well known but little talked about fact that couples that are really comfortable around each other/have been together for a long time feel no shame farting around each other. To me (and many normie marriage experts believe it or not) this is a huge milestone in a relationship.

I mean, yeah, it does represent a greater level of comfort, and it’s definitely better for your internal organs if you don’t hold in your farts for six hours so your date won’t realize you ever fart. And sometimes farts are funny.

But on the flip side, they are also gross as hell and no one outside a few fetishists (and I guess an even smaller number of hopeless romantics) really wants to smell anyone else’s farts. I mean, jeez, it’s a matter of basic politeness: no matter how comfortable you are with someone, go to another room before letting out a big one, if that’s at all possible.

But let’s return to the imaginary fart bliss zone of this guy’s imagination for some thoughts on femoids and Chads.

Like for example, many femoids at first will not be comfortable being seen in front of their new Chad without their make-up and hair being all done up. Gradually, it doesn’t matter anymore. Soon, they will be comfortable being seen in pajamas. Eventually, post-fart bliss as I call it is inevitable, provided the man is question is high value enough for her to stay with long enough.

But there is some possible trouble in this fart paradise, at least for dudes:

WARNING: This stage could also signify that the femoid is about to get fat. Tread with caution and understand that there is that risk.

But Redpill Robert quickly returns to thoughts of farty bliss, and why it remains an impossible dream to all but the luckiest incels.

Most of us will be lucky to ever even get into a serious relationship at all. Of the few that do, 99% will get cucked or just dumped for anything better that comes along. Some very lucky select few however may just escape inceldom completely, get married to a unicorn and live happily ever after in post-fart bliss. Deep down, this is what all of us dream of.

Really? If you’re dreaming of farts, maybe you shouldn’t be eating a full plate of beans right before you go to sleep, huh, you big incel weirdo?

Bam. OWNED!

Ok, maybe that wasn’t THAT great of an own, but it’s Sunday and I’m taking it easy.

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Wow seriously dude? Well that was intensely offensive. Speaking as someone who was a Goth and a Raver in high school and college and both of those subcultures kind of revolve around serious recreational drug use, especially the second one. Actually I think I have to take that back I definitely know some goth kids from back in the day who would argue that point LOL.

Now before my dad died I never really had any addiction problem. I was what some people call a weekend warrior. Except for weed I’ve always been a huge pothead but I don’t consider it a drug. It is a medicinal herb LOL.

We would go to school during the week and get good grades and then literally party from Friday afternoon till Sunday morning and then you wake up Sunday late afternoon or early evening and take that 12 or 16 hours you had before class to knock out that paper or homework or whatever you need to do. Wash rinse repeat LOL.

But then after my father died I really lost it I ended up in a psych ward and then becoming a heroin addict. I had a really horrific experience in the psych ward with them over-medicating me constantly to a ridiculous point with things like Thorazine even though I begged them not to thank God I was able to convince them to let me sign out with my mother and my boyfriend’s help.

So yeah I needed to self medicate or else I was too mentally unstable. Like I was harming myself, experiencing suicidal ideation, the whole 9. I was actually able to hold a real grown-up job for a while, which I’m not very good at LOL once I started carefully self-medicating after the first throes of grief had calmed down somewhat.

I mean I did try the hospital approach first and it was a horrific failure. I needed to do something and it was the best I could come up with as a intensely grieving mentally unstable 24 year old.

I’m not trying to say wow heroin addiction was a lovely thing but it may honestly have saved my life if you look at the big picture apparently that makes me more likely to fit into a Venn diagram with incels in your opinion. Thanks for that.

We Hunted the Mammoth tracks and mocks the white male rage underlying the rise of Trump and Trumpism. This blog is NOT a safe space; given the subject matter -- misogyny and hate -- there's really no way it could be.